We wondered
As we walked down the boat ramp
On the Wisconsin side
And saw the sign that said, ‘Nevers Landing’:
Where was the platform
On the Minnesota side
that we had stood on so many times
looking at this spot
wondering what it was like over here
and why couldn’t we see it?

And we heard the voice of a lady
walking up behind us
with a seven year old boy
maybe six
She was counting
. . . 27,28,29,30. It’s only 30!
She said to her son
She was counting the slats on the ramp
I’m not sure if slats is the right word
Cement rows? Ramp steps?

And then she looked at us
I was pleased that she was so generous
And said,
Cheerfully
‘Yesterday the water was only up to 36!’
So the water had risen that much only since last night!

We looked and saw that
Indeed
Many of the bases of the trees were under water
And the river seemed to be flowing very fast.

Since she was so forthcoming with this information
We asked her if it was possible to see the platform on the other side
Oh yes!
And she pointed up the road and told us that
“only half a block”
I felt it slightly ironic that she was using city terms
in this natural area
away was a path you could walk out to a point and see it easily
Normally
she explained
You could walk straight there
but not with this flooding

So we thanked her and soon found ourselves on a
suspiciously straight
ridge
similar to that which we’d walked on several times on the other side
Was this one engineered, as well?
we’d never have had a clue that it was there
except for the advice
of a mom we had never met before.
and soon
there it was
we saw the platform
familiar and distant.
All the way across the non-Jordan river.

It was equally as impossible to get there
now that we were here
As it was to get here when we were there.

Over at my other blog, I just posted a list of poems from this blog that were all of the same type: Specific and detailed descriptions of places our family has been to on vacations with commentary on how these spots affected us.

I want you to know that I mean what I say,
When I say what I say almost everyday.
(So as you can see in the way that I write,
these words are a poem, too corny, too trite)
The words that I speak of are three: “I love you.”
The words that I speak of are clearly not new.
So perhaps clarity would help to reveal,
my thoughts to you and help you to feel,
What I know.

“I love you” here means that a good husband should:
(A husband I am; I’m not sure about ‘good’)
Give his wife hugs and kisses each time he comes home,
And, more often than in a once a year poem,
Give her verbal messages and spoken caresses,
And show that he means every word he expresses,
With unselfish acts causing her peace to grow.
‘Least that’s what I think those three words mean and so,
Here I go:

You give me peace; yes, I’ve said that before,
But it is the truth and its true even more,
Than the days I first said it back in ’91.
You take care of our home, you take care of our son.
With such skill that I doubt not a thing that you do,
Nor your love, nor your song, nor your pleasures, though few.
It’s ironic then that you lack your own peace,
I hereby pledge now to help it increase,
‘till you smile.

My problem is that I forget what you need.
You need me and my time and my feelings decreed,
You need me to want to spend much time with you,
You need one to encourage your pleasures (though few)
You need one who will help to make your pleasure great,
You need a leader to initiate,
Can I do it? I don’t know, but I will say I’ll strive,
And I’ll always stay with you down each road we drive,
Every Mile

And I’ll say once again so that you know that I do
Really, really, really, really, really love you.

I look ahead and up at the steep stairway,
Moss covered wood railing
Uneven steps that lead to the bright sunlit trees at the top of a ridge.
that we are about to go up.
I look behind and see the creek
Rock covered
A pleasant, trickling stream flowing
Water that has come from deep inside the thick north woods forest
And is heading into the great lake
I look to my left and see a small wooden cabin.
With a chimney
And a few small windows
I look to my right and see the back of a restaurant.
We are above it, so we see mostly roof.
We see the exhaust vents from the kitchen
The back of this building is flat and dark

But one might ask – what is the poignancy here?
And sir, my answer:

Looking ahead, I see steps that will be a happy challenge
for a three year old to climb
and for a six year old to count
and for a five year old who can’t wait to look down from the top of the ridge.
Looking behind, I see the lowest part of a creek
That just two days ago, my boys and I hiked up
I see rocks that we all worked together to get across
Looking to the left I see a cozy getaway log cabin
Where my wife and I have spent romantic nights
Listening to a crackling fire inside
and the trickling creek outside.
Looking to the right (Although it is not pretty to look at from this view)
I see the dining hall
where we have eaten many pancakes
my one-year-old son smiled at old ladies
who smiled back
and my two-year-old showed her pink and blue crayon drawings
to another artist, fifty years older.

And what of those near things that are out of site?
Not quite in view?
Looking ahead I think of the much larger river
Beyond the steps
Perhaps a third of a mile away
With canyons and pine trees and tall wooden bridges
Carving it’s place into the rock
Looking behind I think of the cozy main lodge
Beyond the creek
With the old magazines and pictures
And the grandiose fireplace.
And grand piano where my wife and her sister once played a duet
Looking to the left I think of the open outdoor chapel among pine trees
Beyond the log cabin
Where a family sat and prayed and sang and read from the bible
And looking beyond the restaurant to my right, I think of the great lake
Powerful and majestic
Reflecting the power and majesty of it’s Creator
Our presence here is what I tried to describe in the Georgia Hospital.
It’s good to be here.
I wonder . . .
What do others see when they come to this spot?

Three Amigos – starring Steve Martin, Chevy Chase, and Martin Short, is a pretty good movie throughout, but there is one scene that I really enjoyed – not for the comedy, but for the music.

At one point they are sleeping in the dessert and Martin Short’s character is having difficulty getting to sleep, so the other two (and eventually him) sing a lullaby – Arizona Moon. I really liked the melody and the sweetness of the lyrics (you want to see it?), so when I had kids I changed the words to fit our situation – this is what I ended up with.

Minnesota Lullaby

Minnesota moon keep shining,
Through the open window there,
Six little kids, asleep in their beds,
They know that Mom and Dad are right downstairs.

Blue moonlight in the air
Little Children, close your eyes and dream,
The love of Jesus shines more than the moon,
He knows your hopes and fears,
Just close your eyes and dream, little kids,
Dream of Heaven

Blue moonlight in the air,
Soft wind blowing, through the trees above,
You’ve a big day tomorrow,
And you are safe tonight, so
Close your eyes and dream

A High School Poem, which was turned in as part of a Advanced Creative Writing project of the same title, and which was deemed ‘Excellent’ by the English teacher who, after looking at how he graded other poems that I turned in, was perhaps too generous.

Point of View

Dumplings in a blue broth disperse,
Clear mirror with white chips,
That have been scraped away
Ice begins to emerge
Cracked up – pieces of a puzzle
Solid uniform ghost against the still perfect blueness
Builds up into mountains
Covered with white sheets of cool.
The clouds come back,
And the peaks are gone.

A class,
And we were all forced to move,
And when we got back,
A girl, whom I had noticed before,
Was missing.
She had had an innocent face (no surprise there),
And she was not seen for the rest of the day.

So I must decide to search and find her
And save her,
I looked and saw a girl on ledge,
It must be her, and I rushed to help,
But at my entrance there were two others,
And she was not her.
I must have looked quite foolish.

And a walk into another world, still searching,
A world of a panther identity,
And spiders and reptiles,
Of poisonous venom,
And, for lack of vision,
Death and nothing found.

So real world search again and consider:
The teacher was not with us the whole time we were away,
Conspicuous, it might have been him,
A case of blackmail.

A new search, but, stop.
She merely had to leave for sport, no problem.
No search needed.
Oh . . . . good. . . .

So you step out of the Food building
To the south
With what you have chosen for your lunch or supper
A difficult choice sometimes
We recommend
For Large Families
Getting a whole pizza and a big basket of french fries
Your kids feet are a little tired from walking
Having seen the largest pig
and the found-garbage sculpture of a frog
and having chosen their favorite piece of art
Our eldest daughter chose the one with the cat
Having climbed the 64 foot tall DNR viewing tower
And having grinned and screamed on the ladybug ride
And you see
Even though it a weekday
A patio filled with people
(It is not huge)
Walking,
Sitting at tables,
Sitting on the landscape rock walls
Sitting on the curb
And some just sitting on the patio

But do not despair

You have other options
Though it will take a short hike
200 feet, maybe?
Walk east,
Cross a road and continue
through the crowd at the Leinenkougal (sp?) stage
you may get a free beer sample opportunity
(I passed)
And cross another road

And there
Tucked between the
Quiet, Unassuming
Administration building and the Building labeled “Admin 2”
Look for the Snoopy on his dog house statue in the middle

Find deep green grass in shade
Or you can sit at one of the two picnic tables if you‘d rather
And sit in a circle
With your pizza in the middle
And eat in peace.

If you choose, watch the amateur talent contest
Cheer for the nine year girl who plays violin amazingly well
Let your kids run around
They haven’t been able to run much today
Or lie back in the grass
The only deep green grass at the entire state fair
And rest

Then up you go, again
The Sky ride is waiting,
And what about the model trains in the center of the agriculture building?

Another college poem.This is a poem is about a dream that I had, a very nice romantic innocent dream about a girl who I wanted to date, but was too afraid to ask out. I was like that, y’know, chicken, uncommitting. I was just reading this for the first time in a while this evening and I was surprised to find that I have forgotten most of these details.

==

“Girl of my dreams, I love you” were my thoughts,
But following her around, I would not bring it up,
Until a confrontation:
“So . . .” (her)
And a confession,
“Yes. . .” (me)
And like the Beatles song,
We took a walk
Smoothly, without steps,
Holding hands.

And then we were on a boat
And great, bright European churches
And I see a friend, and she sees us,
But passing by her out of the range of a voice,
I hoped she
(the friend out of range)
understood,
Because I could not explain.

“Ice Cream?” I asked her,
“I know of a place.”
And we went in,
And a doubt-inducing explanation unheard.

I woke up with a clenched fist.

===

The good news is that this dream/story has a happy ending. I eventually did gather the resources to ask her out, and now I am married to her.

I just got done reading an anthology of poems that I wrote for a project my junior year of high school. The question is – should one feel embarrassed or humbled if poetry he wrote when he was fifteen really wasn’t that good?

Here is the poem (I have edited the spelling mistake) from that project I feel most comfortable sharing here:

Our Last Chance

Hunting, Searching for the last duck.
Spot one, a dot, on the horizon
Coming straight in
Its mind set for food
Stand up aim and pull
All noise goes to your ear, Crack
The duck hesitates and starts again
Its heart skipping a beat.

So if peace were like a river,
It would always flow in streams
But even though I’ve wished to find
It’s coolness, still it seems,
That I cannot find the river,
Nor yet even shallow creek,
So I listen for the water
And I wonder where to seek.

Yet if peace were like a river,
Then the search would be no chore,
For every tender knows you tread,
Downhill to find it’s shore,
No need to follow nose, nor eyes,
Only trust to follow feet,
Then sooner now or later there,
Find waters soft and sweet.

But peace is like no river or,
I’m blind, deaf, dumb and lame,
And while I am yet wandering,
I wonder who to blame,
Myself, it is most certain
I am sure not God above,
The poet had a part there, so
I doubt his “Joy” and “Love”

Needless to say – I’d have some questions for Young Jamsco if I were to talk to him. The first two would be – What would give you peace, and Are you so sure you need it?

Yes, Confidence, Yes
There is no guess.
Frighten, Shock
Smile or Stern
And In return
A smile or “Please”
The heart that flees
Is the content one.

Take a walk
Hold her hand
But don’t ask first
Around the block
Simple
It just happens every day
Look for the Dimple
Or the Stylish Way
(so unrehearsed)
She comes undone
She Falls Apart
She flips
You have her heart
You now have won.

I at least partially don’t agree with it now. Or call it perilously close to a weasel way out of obediance. But perhaps that was my point.
1:39 AM 2/12/88

Bereft

So would you, if Christ were sitting right here
Be doing this same without any fear
that he’d think you a fool to be watching this face
and if you had doubts he’d remove every trace

And you’d know by his voice
That you had not a choice
But to do just what he had said

Yes, Yes, I know, it’s true, I agree.
But he is not here to tell it to me
So thus I must ask myself this:

Is this face lovely?
Is this face godly?
Does this face cause you to sin?

And sir, my answer:

This face, no perfection
But with some inspection
The sin part is not brought within

And if every face, reflecting a sin
Must be removed, then look again
That other face, of which you view
Must go as well, it must go, too.
So what have we left?
We now are bereft,
Of all things that can entertain

Can we all then keep
Our dreams, yet not sleep?
I hope so, again and again

And if there’s no cure,
we’ll find out for sure,
When we’re dead, Ma’am, when we are dead